


Nothing stays the same

by Miishae



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Depression, Family Angst, Family Feels, Illness, More tags to be added, Other, Recovery, Sleep Deprivation, Suicide, Suicide mention, platonic caretaking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-11
Updated: 2018-09-23
Packaged: 2019-07-10 21:06:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15957554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miishae/pseuds/Miishae
Summary: Chase Brody doesn't sleep or do much else outside of work. He suffers quietly, unable to tell anyone just how badly he's suffering. When everything starts falling apart around him, he has to make a very difficult choice. Can he let the others in, or will he continue to isolate himself?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm trying my hand at writing the Septic egos. I've written Anti and Dark before, but not the other ones. I started writing them elsewhere with other people, and this idea for a story popped into my head. I hope you like it!

Everyone had already left for the day.

Chase was gripping the counter in the kitchen, debating the merits of skipping out on work and going straight back to bed. He didn't want to, since he loved his job, but he also didn’t have the energy to push himself today. It was a testament to his stubbornness that he'd even made it as far as the kitchen. It was a distant surprise though. All his emotions so far today had been distant. Chase was too numb to care.

The only thing stopping him from moving in either direction was the smell of brewing coffee. It was hard to look at the device since his vision was blurred and watery. The blinding lights from the kitchen weren't helping matters either, as they only increased the aching pounding in his head.

It had been just over a week since Chase had last slept properly. Combined, he’d probably only gotten less than ten hours, and he’d barely been surviving on coffee and energy drinks alone. This morning had especially been a struggle to get up and get ready for the day, including almost fainting in the shower. He'd only survived **that** by quickly jerking the faucet toward cold.

Not even Jameson was home to see him like this. He’d gone with Schneeplestein to the hospital, having expressed mild interest in learning something new. Schneep had explained to all of them last night that Jameson could shadow him and pretend to be learning something; it had all gone over Chase’s head in a way that made the doctor sound like an adult from _Peanuts_. He hadn’t really talked to any of the others in almost two days, not able to summon up the energy for a conversation. Chase knew they were worried, but even now, he couldn't summon up the energy to care.

The _ding_ from the coffee maker brought him back to reality. With trembling fingers, he tried to pour himself a mug, only spilling some on the counter. The rest made it into the waiting mug. He could clean up the mess later, since the thought of doing much more than drinking felt like too much effort. With the mug now in his hand, Chase pushed away from the counter and turned around, trying to will energy into himself to finish off his drink in just a few large gulps. His hands kept trembling, his vision was only getting more blurry.

If only his head would stop _**screaming**_ at him.

Falling back against the counter, Chase tried to grip his head, letting out a pained moan. This was no longer a headache, but a full migraine. No,it felt _worse_ than a migraine; he could almost feel the barrel of the gun pressing into his head all over again, just as painful as the initial shot. Hot tears of agony burned his eyes, and as he struggling to blink them back, he heard the sounds of shattering.

Another groan was voiced as he looked down, realizing that his mug had slipped from his fingers, shattering on the linoleum below. The coffee spilled out messily, reminding Chase vaguely of blood. He could almost see it too, spilling out of his head with droplets splattering onto the ground below. His head was now starting to feel like a bomb had exploded from the inside out, leaving Chase feeling dizzy and on the verge of throwing up. Eyes squeezing shut, the vlogger pushed the images of delirium out of his mind. He needed to focus on **right now.**

Sliding to the ground, Chase reached over and slapped his hand down on the shattered ceramic in a clumsy effort to clean up his mess. He grabbed a handful and snatched them up, closing his fist tightly around the jagged mess. A stab of pain right in the center of his palm reminded Chase that he was sitting on the kitchen floor, in a puddle of spilled coffee. Opening his hand, he realized that a piece of ceramic had gotten stuck inside his skin, only just barely poking out; enough that he could use tweezers to pry it out. He wasn’t bleeding, but he made no effort to rectify his injury either.

Chase could only stare at it, unable to fully comprehend why his hand hurt. There was something about the stuck piece that seemed completely normal to him. It almost seemed odd that he was supposed to be feeling alarmed about this. _Why_ did people make such a big fuss about slivers? They were never that bad, just annoying. Logically, he knew he was supposed to care, and obviously be more careful, but emotionally?

“I am so fucked up,” he whispered. He stared at his hand until it dropped to his lap limply. There was simply nothing left in Chase to fight the exhaustion, and suddenly nothing else sounded as fantastic as just _sitting_ here. Eyes sliding closed, Chase let his head rest against the cabinet, but he could feel himself listing to the side, toward the broken ceramic. It was only now that he decided it would be a **great** idea to miss a day or two of work. No one would mind, really. Even internet entertainers needed breaks here and there.

_Five more minutes_ , he told himself. Five minutes, and he’d go back to bed.

**Just...five...more...**


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jackie and Marvin try to help, but Chase shuts them out. Many feelings are hurt.

Chase slowly came back to reality, mind still distant and not fully aware of his surroundings. His body weighed far too much for something that felt so light. He wasn’t sure where he was anymore; it was definitely not the kitchen floor. Couch, maybe? He did notice there was something cold on his forehead, almost _too_ cold compared to the warmth spread across the rest of his body. Chase was also still too fatigued to even turn his head to shake it off, and something in his mind was trying to force him back down into sleep.

He was kept from slipping away only by a muted voice somewhere next to him. Straining his ears, the vlogger dimly registered the voice as Jackie’s, and it sounded like Jackie was talking into a phone. When did Jackie get home from patrols? “....I don’t...okay? ...okay, doing it right now.” Chase involuntarily shuddered when he felt a finger pressing firmly into his neck. It was such a routine act, but Chase wanted _more_ of it. It felt so nice and cool compared to the rest of him. The finger didn't stay there long though, long enough for Jackie to get a reading of his pulse. He was too drowsy still to voice his complaints about the absence though.

“Still beatin’ slower than normal,” Jackie continued. “I think he’s goin’ to be pretty out for awhile.” There was a pause, and a silence that was only broken up by the sound of Jackie’s calm, even breathing as the superhero listened to the voice on the other end. “Yeah, I cleaned up the mess already. No, Schn- no, _listen_! Don’t come home. You and Jameson stay there, I’ve got this. I don’t have anywhere to go now, I don’t mind watch-” He sounded like was cut off again, and this time, if Chase really listened, he could make out the faint German accent on the other end of the line. Henrik was probably just as concerned, though Chase was too out of it still to recognize _why_ Jackie and Schneep were worried. “No, I’m fine,” Jackie continued. “It’s fine. Just stay at work. I’ll call you if I need anything.”

Whatever conversation happened after that, Chase wasn’t aware of. He could feel Jackie’s warm hand press lightly on his cheek, feel Jackie’s thumb caress him in a gentle sweep, and then, **nothing**.

The next time Chase woke up, he was almost certain a few hours had passed. This time, he could actually move his body, or at least twitch a few fingers. The heaviness of sleep wasn’t as noticeable this time, which made opening his eyes easier. The absence of cold on his forehead probably was helping too, and now that he was more alert, Chase noticed that his migraine had mostly faded into a simple, dull throb. Those kinds of headaches were easy enough to ignore, even if they were still painful enough that Chase shifted uncomfortably.

“Chase?” The vlogger turned his head toward the voice, cracking open one eye to stare at Jackie. “Hey.” Jackie grinned as he got up and crossed the room to get to Chase. One of Jackie’s hands settled on Chase’s forehead, and it was only seconds later when Chase realized he was checking for a fever. “Are you okay?”

Chase’s eyes drifted closed again and he turned his head away. He wasn’t sure if this was exhaustion or just a refusal to answer the question. He could move around, but he felt like he wasn’t done sleeping yet. He wanted to sleep instead of make small talk with Jackie. Chase wasn’t going to completely ignore the older ego though, so he licked his lips and tried to form a coherent response. 

“--dunno.”

“What happened?” Jackie insisted. “You had missed calls from Chad. He even texted your phone asking why you didn’t show up to work.” Jackie’s voice was taking on a slightly frustrated edge to it, and Chase tried to shrink away to safety. “I never wanted to come home and find you passed out on the kitchen floor, lyin’ in a puddle of cold coffee and shattered coffee mug. What’s goin’ on, Chase?”

_I had a headache_ , he wanted to say. But even as that response formed in his mind, Chase pushed it away. It wasn’t the only reason, and they both knew it. He didn’t know how to actually respond to that though, and his hesitation only drew on even longer, forming a rather uncomfortable silence between the two of them. Honestly, Chase didn't even want to have this conversation with anyone. He was happier keeping it to himself, not that _he_ even knew how to admit it to himself.

Jackie probably noticed that Chase really wasn’t up for conversation, because Chase could feel him pulling away with a sigh. “Okay,” Jackie’s voice said, far softer than it had been seconds ago. Almost _sadly_. “Go back to sleep. You’re feverish anyway, and I’d rather you focus on resting than trying to push yourself anymore.”

Chase didn’t need anymore instruction; he could already feel himself drifting off again. This time, it felt a lot more natural and welcoming than the previous two times he’d drifted off. He welcomed the silent oblivion.

He came back again when he felt a hand on his shoulder. This time when Chase woke up, the room was significantly darker, lit up only by a dim lamp that had been set up on the coffee table. Rather than Jackie hovering over him, Chase saw it was Marvin, and Marvin was holding some food.

The smell of pizza wafted toward him, making Chase’s stomach churn. He turned his head away, wrinkling his nose in disgust. Marvin was clearly not having it, because he reached over and pulled Chase’s chin back toward him.

“No buddy,” Marvin insisted. “You got yourself into this mess, and I’m going to help get you out of it.” He pulled a single pineapple of the slice of pizza he was holding, and offered it out. “Look, it’s your favorite.” He pressed the piece of fruit to Chase’s lips, grinning to himself until Chase gave up the fight and let Marvin hand feed him. Marvin’s grin only grew wider, as he continued to feed the vlogger a couple of pizza slices, one tiny piece at a time.

When they were finally done, Chase clamped a hand over his mouth, making sure the food would actually stay down before he spoke up again. “Way to baby me, Marv,” he grumbled. “I’m gonna be sick now.”

“You’re already sick,” Marvin said brightly. He kept up that annoying expression for another few seconds before he slumped back, sliding down to his knees to be level with Chase. “Okay, so. Jackie tried asking earlier, and the others are too afraid to ask, which leaves me.”

“What are you talkin’ about?”

“Why didn’t you tell us you weren’t sleeping at all this past week? Don’t bother lying to me, because you know fully well I can see right through you. I _know_ you, Chase.”

“I never sleep.” Chase turned away. “Everyone knows that anyway.” He closed his eyes again, suddenly wishing Marvin would go away and leave him alone. He was not in the mood to be interrogated like some criminal. He hadn't wanted it from Jackie, and he especially didn't want it from Marvin.

“Were you drinking this week too?” Marvin asked. Chase flinched at the pointed question. It was probably all the answer Marvin needed, because he changed the subject then.

“Just so you know, we called Jack. He’s comin’ over tomorrow to see how you’re doin’.”  
Marvin seemed entirely unsurprised by the way Chase whipped around and gripped his wrist in anger.

“ ** _Why_**?” Chase snapped. “I don’t need to talk to him!” Raw anger flooded through him, leaving him feeling far hotter than he already felt. Chase could feel sweat starting to bead out of him as he kicked his blanket off in a vain attempt to cool himself down. “I don’t need to talk to anyone!”

“That’s the point,” Marvin said coolly, prying Chase’s fingers from his arm. “You won’t even talk to _me_ , and we spend way more time together than I want to half the time. If no one else, you’ll actually talk to Jack. At least, I’m hoping you’ll quit acting stupid enough to tell him what’s going on with you lately.”

“Nothing is.” As quickly as the anger had come, it was fading, letting Chase fall limply back into the cushions. “I’m-”

“-If you say _fine_ one more time, I’m going to make you regret it. Quit lying to me, bro.” Marvin’s voice was flat and emotionless now. Chase looked back in time to see a flickering expression of hurt on Marvin’s face, fading into something more neutral. Guilt churned in the vlogger’s stomach.

“Sorry.” Chase sighed. “I’m tired. Can I go back t’ sleep?” 

“Yeah.” Marvin got to his feet. “We’ll all be upstairs if you need anything. Sleep well, Chase.” He put a hand to Chase’s cheek, tapping his fingers twice before pulling away and leaving the room.

Chase lost himself in thought for a few moments, gaze focused idly on the lamp in front of him. “Why am I like this?” He whispered to himself. He _hated_ that he was pushing people away, but he’d spent so long coping by itself that any outside help felt foreign. Chase only saw pity in their eyes, and he hated the feeling of helplessness.

Finally, he reached out and shut the lamp off, surrounding himself in darkness. When he fell asleep again, his dreams consisted of nothing but that same darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, Chase isn't going to keep them at bay for long.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seán tries his hand with Chase. Some harsh truths are revealed.
> 
> Trigger warning: suicide mention.

They’d been sitting across from each other for a good ten minutes now, with Chase looking at anything in the kitchen _but_ Seán. He was still angry that the others had called their creator over, and Chase was going to stay quiet; he had absolutely nothing to say.

Seán was also being stubborn in that he was refusing to get up. The youtuber was staring at Chase, catching his eye whenever the ego accidentally glimpsed over in his direction, and holding said eye contact. It was making Chase nervous, and he was now fighting the urge to get up and walk out of the kitchen. One of them was going to break the tension soon, and Chase had a sinking feeling it was going to be him.

He could hold out for another few minutes, hopefully. His hands were beginning to tremble, harder than he could remember, and the heachache was flaring up hotly too. It wouldn’t be long before Seán noticed, but Chase was hoping he could hold out until the youtuber decided to leave. Licking his lips, the vlogger fiddled with his coffee mug, staring down at the lukewarm drink inside. He tapped his fingers anxiously against the porcelain in a pathetic attempt to hide what his hands were doing.

“You gotta talk to me,” Seán finally spoke up. “I could play the waitin’ game with you all day, but you’ve eventually gotta talk to someone. I’m here now.” Chase made the mistake of glancing over at him; he could see the expression of sympathy.

“That’s the thing.” Chase could feel his facade cracking. He wanted to remain closed off and aloof; it was easier than opening up and showing just how vulnerable he was. There was something about Seán though; the way he looked at Chase, the way he was trying to be there… Chase _trusted_ him. There was no one he held in higher regard than the youtuber, and Chase, in this moment, loathed it. “I don’t know how.” He pressed the heel of his hand to his forehead, screwing his eyes shut in an effort to stave off the headache. “I can’t figure it out. I’m just…” he pressed his lips together, looking off to the side.

“Is it Stacy?” Seán’s voice broke through Chase’s thoughts, leaving him shuddering violently and reeling back in his chair. Chase couldn’t bring himself to look over at the youtube now, since _he’d_ figured out what Chase had been trying to hide. _How had he guessed that so easily?_

“No,” he said sharply. It was too quick of a response, and Chase could practically feel Seán glaring at him. “I don’t know.” It would do no good to lie now. “Her, the kids.” He shrugged, closing his eyes and refusing to open them again.

“Why aren’t you talkin’ to anyone else?” Seán asked. _Why couldn’t he shut up?_ “It’s obvious you’re miserable. Marvin especially is worried about you.” Seán was leaning forward now, and Chase was trembling more violently. The creator was picking apart everything that bothered Chase, and Chase hated it. He hated Seán for being here, for asking questions, and yet, Chase hated him for **nothing**. None of this was anyone’s fault but his own.

“How are the kids?” Seán was still going, apparently determined to get some sort of answer. “Have you seen them recently? How’s work going? Your own channel?”

“Shut up,” Chase whispered. “Please stop talkin’.” 

“Have you and Stacy talked on the phone lately?” Seán was clearly not done. He was going to keep trying to find an opening in Chase’s defenses and they both seemed to know it. “Have you seen her in person? Are you still drink-” 

He was cut off with a startled yelp, followed by a crash. Chase had lunged across the table, knocking over his coffee mug in his attempt to grip Seán’s shirt, letting out a furious sob of his own. “I said _shut up_!” Chase snarled, eyes opened wide and filled with unshed tears. His gaze was focused on the youtuber now, insisting on eye contact since the other had so clearly wanted it. If Seán wanted to see him, he was going to see _just_ how broken Chase was. He wanted the youtuber to feel every bit of his self loathing and depression.

“Chase….”

“I said shut the fuck up!” Chase snapped a third time. “You can’t just show up and poke around like that! You have _no idea_ what I’m goin’ through!” He let out a snort of disgust before swallowing thickly, ignoring the tears freely flowing now. “You know what? I’m fuckin’ broken, okay? Are you happy? I’m a right fucking mess and now everyone knows it!” He was only distantly aware that his voice was rising in hysteria, that _everyone else_ in the house could probably hear him now. “I love fuckin’ torturing myself because no one else probably cares I’m miserable!”

He tried to let go so he could storm off.

It was as if his hand had seized up, tied up in the fabric he was gripping. His fingers were trembling far too much for Chase to regain control, and it was taking most of his self control to not burst into tears right then and there. The more he struggled, the more he realized that he was _stuck_. His body was shaking too much for him to even yank himself back. A helpless whimper slipped out as he tried to use his free hand to pull himself loose, but even his free hand was useless; grip too weak to do anything.

It took almost thirty seconds for the creator to silently grip Chase's hand and pry the fingers from his shirt. He didn’t look sympathetic anymore, he looked troubled. Seán’s eyebrows were furrowed in concern and even a little bit of fear as he loosened Chase’s grip. “What did I do to you?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper. He kept his grip on Chase’s hand once it was freed, refusing to let go. In that moment, Chase desperately wanted more than someone holding his hand. He wanted Seán to wrap his arms around him, to tell him it’d be okay, even if things **weren’t**. At the same time, he wanted to shove the youtuber away to go hide in his room. He wanted to lock his emotions away again so he didn’t have to think about his life. He didn't know what he wanted anymore.

“Nothin’,” Chase whispered, trying to pull his hand back. “This is all me, Seán. I did all this. I’m the mess, not you.”

“I helped!” It was the youtuber’s turn to look panicked. He let Chase go as he threw up his hands. “I should have realized after the first three-” 

“You still didn’t do anything!” Chase snapped, hastily wiping at his eyes. “I’m the one that put the bullet through my head, I’m the one _dealin’_ with all of this. So yes, to everything you asked. It’s Stacy, it’s the kids, it’s my head, my fuckin’ _body_. No one can help me, so I haven’t said anything. What’s anyone supposed to say anyway? _‘We’re here for you’_? What good is that?”

“We can _try_ ,” Seán insisted. “You can’t keep pushing us away forever. What happens if you…” he trailed off, looking uncertain. There was a brief flicker of emotion in his eyes, almost like a _tear_ , but it was gone in a nanosecond. Chase knew exactly what the youtuber was asking, and his felt himself stiffen in response.

“I’m not going to put another gun to my head,” he said bluntly. There was a mild satisfaction in seeing Seán flinch at that. “I just deal, okay? It’s not healthy, but I don’t care. I’m still _alive_.”

“Chase, you know I care about you,” Seán mumbled. “You all insist that you’re real and completely separate from me. Sure, I’ll buy that, but you’re going to end up killing yourself. You’re already dead on your feet. I don’t have the power to bring you back, and I **don’t** want to risk that.”

It was Chase’s turn to flinch. He slouched back in the chair, catching a glimpse of the mess on the floor. Henrik was going to be pissed at him for _this_ mug too.

“I don’t know,” he whispered. “Can’t you just…” He stopped trying to make sense of anything anymore. His head ached too much for logic. “-just stay?”

Seán said nothing as he got to his feet. His gaze remained on Chase as he walked around the table, finally sitting in the chair next to him. Chase let himself fall into his creator, and he cried.


End file.
